


Shall We Get Intimate?

by bondboy68, earlgreyson



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Bondage, Established Relationship, Femdom, Gaby is in charge always, Humor, Illya is too serious, Multi, Napoleon talks too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondboy68/pseuds/bondboy68, https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreyson/pseuds/earlgreyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was only one hotel suite to share between them when they arrived in Paris, something that had begun to be something of a trend....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall We Get Intimate?

**Author's Note:**

> I've always found it annoying to have to go and translate the random bits of non-English that people like to throw into stories, so if you can't tell the [brackets] are used to show when Gabby is speaking German.

There was only one hotel suite to share between them when they arrived in Paris, something that had begun to be something of a trend. Over the last few missions the three agents of the group codenamed U.N.C.L.E. started to wonder if their handler had finally realized that no matter how many accommodations he booked, they would all end up sharing the same bed. This particular suite had two bedrooms, a King in one and two smaller beds in the other. Well, they could at least pretend to maintain that they really were a trio of filmmakers. Ones who would never dare to harm the virtuous reputation of their one female counterpart by not providing her with room and bed of her own, while her two gentlemen coworkers graciously settled for the smaller beds. Besides, they needed space to set up equipment and spread out their gear. That way it was all out from underfoot when they finally tumbled into the large single bed at the end of another long day.

The mission slowed to a crawl after day three. The intel they’d gathered had already been sent off to Waverley, who was so happy with their work he honored them with a full day off. It was in unspoken agreement that they would spend it inside, despite encouragement to see the sites. It was then that Gabby came up with an idea for the poor unused beds they’d been neglecting.

She started by undressing each of the boys herself. It proved not to be a lengthy undertaking, as neither had bothered to properly dress between waking and eating breakfast in the room. Gabby, fully clothed in loose silk pajamas, stood quietly as she admired her boys. It wasn’t the first time her thoughts had lingered over how lucky she was. Even as she appraised them, she felt both their eyes following her with looks so full of love she almost abandoned her game to pull them into bed, just to lay there and hold each other. There would be time for that later, though. For now she was in charge.

Pushing Illya gently into the edge of the left bed, Gabby directed Napoleon to the right. The wrought iron bed frames had given her the idea in the first place, but now that she had the time to play it out the woman took her time. Leaning over Napoleon first, she tugged gently against his wrists until they were pressed into the cold twisting metal above him and secured them in place with an extremely useful pair of handcuffs. She quickly went to work on the other man as well and soon both were bound and waiting. It had not passed their notice that they’d used the handcuffs on each other far more often than they had on any mark or villain. 

Gabby stood between the beds, hands on her hips, looking like a girl at a sleepover in her chaste pajamas. Illya and Napoleon, laying among the linens like strange Greek sculptures come to life. The only betrayal of the Adonis imagery was eagerness of their faces, both of them already tense with anticipation. Gabby smiled, eyes lingering. She had all day with them, after all.

Then the phone rang and Gabby gave her boys a stern look. “Stay,” she commanded, before turning to answer the call in the sitting room.

Once she was gone, Illya and Napoleon exchanged looks. At first all they could hear was quiet murmuring, then a loud greeting in German. Napoleon turned his head, straining to hear as Gabby turned, phone tucked against her hear.

“[It has been a long time! No, I’m not busy…]” She flopped onto the couch, obviously settling in for a long conversation. Napoleon rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. He turned to exchange exasperated looks with Illya, but the Russian had not moved. He sat as still and rigid as before, the well-behaved pet waiting for his master’s return.

Napoleon glanced to the living room, where Gabby was consumed in conversation. As short and quiet as she could be when she was uncomfortable, or talking to somebody she didn’t like, she was the opposite when she was at ease. Apparently this was some very good old friend—she’d be able to go on for hours. He looked back to Illya and hissed.

“Illya? Pssst, Illya!” The Russian only moved his eyes to look at him. Napoleon motioned with his head for the other man to move over. Illya quickly shook his head and looked away. “Psst, Illya! Come here,” Napoleon hissed at him in a stage whisper. The Russian turned and shot him a glare.

“No. Be quiet.” He looked away again, his eyes snapping back to the top of Gabby’s head, that could just been seen over the back of the couch.

Napoleon rolled his eyes. “She’s busy. Just come over here, will you?”

“No. She said to stay.”

“She meant stay in the room.”

“You know exactly what she meant.”

“Don’t you want to have some fun?”

“Shut up!”

Gabby shifted on the couch, but after a moment it was clear she was just getting more comfortable as she chatted into the phone. They both watched for a moment, though, just to be sure.

“Psst, Peril!”

Illya snapped quietly at the smiling man, “No! Shut up!”

“She never said we weren’t allowed to talk.”

“You’re going to get us into trouble.” The Russian grated out. ”You always do this, you think there are loop holes, they aren’t there, and then I get punished.”

Napoleon smirked, only the corner of his mouth turning up viciously. “Yes, but you like that part.”

Illya gave him another hard glare before turning away. Napoleon sighed, leaning back against the headboard. It was true; he was always bending the rules—both out in the field and in the bedroom with their mistress. But after a minute, he was starting to fidget. Gabby loved to do this, leave them all wound up and wanting. And then to dangling something as tempting as the dangerously beautiful Illya just out of arms reach, she had to be expecting something like this would happen. Napoleon glanced around and noticed just what he needed on the floor by the bed. He used a foot, grabbing the hairpin easily with his toes. Getting it transferred to his hands took some extra flexibility.

“What are you doing?” He’d finally managed to catch Illya’s attention at least, tugging the hairpin quickly from his twisted foot.

“My arm fell asleep.”

“Do not do that.”

“She’s not even looking.”

“Do not—”

Gabby laughed loudly from the other room, standing up. Both men froze, staring and waiting. They tracked her as she walking across the room to the bar and made herself a drink, her back to them the entire time. She took her drink back to the couch, settling down with her legs stretched out on the coffee table. Once she was comfortable again, Napoleon got back to work on the cuffs.

“Solo! Solo, stop that—” The cuffs popped open easily and Napoleon let out a grateful sigh as he lowered his arms and rubbed life back into them. He threw a cat-like grin toward Illya, who quickly shook his head. “No. No, do not come over here.”

Napoleon was already moving to the other bed. “She’s not even paying attention.”

“You’re going to get me in trouble. You always do this!”

“Hey!” They both froze, Napoleon half hovering over Illya, at Gabby’s voice from the living room. “Be quiet, or I’ll make you be quiet!” Both men held their breath until she was chattering away in German again.

“See?” Illya hissed softly. “Go back to your bed.”

“She said ‘be quiet’, so I’ll be quiet.” Napoleon swung a leg over Illya to straddle his lap. The giant Russian was tense as a bowstring under him. “Oh would you relax, Peril?” He ran his hands down Illya’s chest. “It’s our day off. Waverley’s orders where to take it easy and relax.”

“Gabby’s orders were to stay put and be quiet.”

“Well, she’s outranked.”

“Not in here, she’s not.”

Napoleon threw back his head and sighed loudly. “If you’re not going to relax, I’m going to have to make you relax.” He rolled his hips against Illya’s. “I’ll take the heat from Gabby.”

“You say that, and then I get punished anyway.”

“Well I can’t help it if she like putting you over her knee. I’m pretty partial to the sight, myself.” Illya was flushed red, definitely showing interest even as he tried to keep up a burning glare at Napoleon. The American felt like he was gaining ground, though, and started peppering kisses across Illya’s jaw and down his throat. “She’ll be on the phone for ages… you really just want to sit here and do nothing? Waste all this time just waiting?” He bit down on a sensitive spot he knew Illya was partial to. As expected, the larger man squirmed under him.

“You…”

Napoleon grinned, could practically feel Illya relaxing and giving up. “Yes?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Both men froze. They hadn’t even heard Gabby hang up the phone. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, one eyebrow cocked.

“It was his fault, I didn’t do anything!” Illya thrashed, trying to throw Napoleon off of him.

“Thanks, Peril.”

“You said you would take heat!"

“Oh, you’re both going be getting that.” Illya shot Napoleon his biggest ‘you see the thing I told you would happen is now happening’ look that he normally reserved for missions. Napoleon just gave him a ‘oh well win some lose some’ shrug in return. “Napoleon.”

“Yes, my love.” He moved to quickly scramble back to the other bed.

“Stop. I didn’t tell you to move.”

Napoleon froze, half off the bed. He slowly moved back into his previous position, hovering over the still-handcuffed Illya. Gabby dragged an arm chair over to the corner of the bed, lounging in it with her feet propped up. “Now, continue.”

Napoleon waited a moment to make sure she was asking for what he thought she was before leveling a devious grin at Illya. The Russian wasn’t impressed. “Just wait, Cowboy, you know what’s coming later.”

“I imagine that’ll be you.”

“No talking,” Gabby demanded. For once Napoleon was happy to oblige, putting his mouth to better use.


End file.
